


Stitched Together

by pressdbtwnpages



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddles, M/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/pressdbtwnpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddles without plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitched Together

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [empathapathique](http://archiveofourown.org/users/empathapathique), [ionthesparrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ionthesparrow/pseuds/ionthesparrow), and [Kelfin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelfin/pseuds/Kelfin) for harassing me into writing this and then whipping it into shape.

There is a moment of stillness after the puck goes in. A beat between breaths when everything is still, just Mike and the ice.

All at once sound and motion come rushing back, the roar of the crowd, Doughty grabbing Mike and spinning him into a celebratory hug. Mike ducks his head as Jeff skates towards him, so that they fit together just right when Jeff gives him a congratulatory knock on the helmet. It's an old routine, one they've been doing forever, though the meaning has been transmuted in the last year.

There’s a neatly stitched cut on Jeff’s cheek – one that wasn’t there when they started this game – and Mike wants to touch it. Wants to rub his thumb over the wound and take away the sting of it. 

The rest of the guys on the ice pile into the hug, congratulating Mike and smacking each other’s helmets. Jeff stays solidly at Mike's side, laughing and proud, until Mike pulls away to high-five the rest of the team.

*

"Good game tonight," Jeff says, settling next to Mike on the couch. The room is dark, the TV off as Mike tries to wind down from the game and dinner out after. He hasn’t even bothered taking off his suit yet.

Mike huffs. It wasn't really. It was a win, but it was messy, ugly hockey and their power play continues to be for shit.

Jeff nudges his shoulder. "You know what I mean."

He means Mike's goal was pretty. Mike nudges back, flops his head onto Jeff's shoulder, and smiles when Jeff rests his head against him.

Being with Jeff has always been easy; now there's an added layer to that. A year of... whatever it is they're doing, living together and sex and being the best possible friends, hasn't entirely eliminated the awkwardness Mike feels cuddling with a dude.

Which is totally what they're doing. Or what Mike's working towards. He presses even closer to Jeff, pleased when Jeff wraps an arm around his shoulders.

He turns to look at Jeff. Even in the dim room, Mike can see the angry red line of his cut, bisected by black stitches. He doesn’t have to resist the urge to touch now. Mike brushes his lips gently across the wound and watches Jeff’s eyes flutter shut. Mike runs his tongue curiously along it and imagines he can taste iodine.

Jeff chuckles contentedly and opens his eyes to shift Mike to suit his own purposes. Mike lets him, enjoying the proprietary ease Jeff has with his body. They settle Mike on top of Jeff, head on Jeff's chest as Jeff cards a hand through his hair. 

They can't stay stretched out on the sofa like this for long. Their cooling muscles will cramp and it will get uncomfortable being crammed together like this.

Mike has spent a lot of time defensive about his height or about being Jeff Carter's sidekick, but pressed up against Jeff who is big and warm and strong, he likes the way he fits with Jeff.

After another few moments, Jeff sighs. Mike's head rises and falls with the movement. "We should go to bed."

Mike's not really in the mood for sex, just wants to stay curled up next to Jeff as they unwind.

Jeff shoves at him. "Come on, up. Bed's comfier than the couch, and you can pretend you don't want to be the little spoon."

Mike can't help his grin. Jeff knows him so well.

The next time Jeff pushes at him, Mike sits up and climbs off of Jeff and the couch. Jeff gets up behind him and laces their fingers together before leading Mike upstairs to bed.

They leave their suits in messy piles on the floor, crawling into bed in boxers and undershirts.

Jeff lies patiently on his side, waiting for Mike. 

The generalized aches of a hard-played game are beginning to make themselves known and remind Mike of their various injuries as they press together. Jeff’s face will still be tender, and he took a nasty check into the boards on top of it, so Mike's trying to avoid holding his left side. Mike himself got tripped in a game a couple of days ago; he still has a painful welt on his shin that makes him disinclined to tangle his legs with Jeff's.

He isn't quite ready to give in and let Jeff wrap around him. Instead, Mike turns to face Jeff before leaning forward and kissing him. It's a lazy kiss, sweet and a little sloppy. Jeff hitches himself closer and deepens the kiss. 

They trade aimless kisses, reveling in the familiar feel of lips on lips, until Mike finds himself yawning into Jeff's mouth.

Jeff laughs and shoves Mike onto his back before winding himself around Mike. "Go to sleep, loser."

Mike moves down the bed so that he can tuck his head under Jeff's chin. It's gay -- gayer than having a dick up his ass, probably -- and Mike loves it.


End file.
